


Can't make it go away by making you a villain

by Saltedkiss



Series: Merthur Week 2020 [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Because she deserves the world - Freeform, Canon Era, Druid Merlin, Fluff, Good Morgana (Merlin), Healing Magic, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Angst, Physical Disability, merthurweek2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28350531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltedkiss/pseuds/Saltedkiss
Summary: Arthur sighed and looked at the letter Leon had brought in earlier. The invitation. Next month would be the one-year anniversary of the treaty between Camelot and the druids. Almost a year had passed since Arthur had given them a piece of his lands and the money they needed to settle down and live in peace. Since he’d gone against his late father’s policies and had declared magic users were friends to all who lived in Camelot and not their enemies. And that, of course, was why the letter had been sent. The invitation to a celebration in King Arthur’s honour. There was no reason for Arthur to decline. There really wasn’t.And yet he had no intention of attending the celebration. He’d done right by the druids. As he should have. And that was all that mattered. There was no need for him to have to visit the druids. Visit... him.Emrys.Written for Merthur Week 2020Day 5: Prompt 5 -  “Any other lies left to tell me?” + Angst
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Merthur Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066913
Comments: 29
Kudos: 216
Collections: Merthur Week 2020





	Can't make it go away by making you a villain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darrinya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darrinya/gifts).



> This story is the sequel to another fic I wrote for Merthurweek 2020. You can definitely read this without having read the other, but some things might make more sense if you've read them both. You can find part one [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290078)
> 
> Dedicated to [my dear friend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyedwina). Today's prompt said angst. So of course this one is for you. <3

“No.” 

“But Sire, custom demands th-” 

“To hell with custom,” King Arthur slammed his fist on the table. “To hell with it all. I am _not_ going and that’s that.” 

Sir Leon simply nodded his head and left the room with a murmured “As you wish, Sire.” 

Arthur sighed and looked at the letter Leon had brought in earlier. The _invitation_. Next month would be the one-year anniversary of the treaty between Camelot and the druids. Almost a year had passed since Arthur had given them a piece of his lands and the money they needed to settle down and live in peace. Since he’d gone against his late father’s policies and had declared magic users were friends to all who lived in Camelot and not their enemies. And that, of course, was why the letter had been sent. The invitation to a celebration in King Arthur’s honour. There was no reason for Arthur to decline. There really wasn’t. 

And yet he had no intention of attending the celebration. He’d done right by the druids. As he should have. And that was all that mattered. There was no need for him to have to visit the druids. Visit... him. 

Emrys. 

It had been five years since Arthur had last laid eyes on the man. Five years since a monstrous creature had all but torn his leg straight off of his body, leaving him to perish in a forest fire. Five years since he’d discovered the man who then saved his life and turned his life upside down in less than three days had actually been his sworn enemy. The druid’s leader, Emrys. Arthur had found out who the man who’d called himself Merlin really was when his people were about to storm the druid camp and had been forced to make a decision in a matter of seconds. 

Camelot’s Prince had chosen to save the lives of the people he didn’t know and had betrayed his own father in the process. And for what? 

Arthur had spent the following months trying to hide the anger he felt towards the man. He didn’t want to have to explain his sudden appearance in the woods. The fact that the second search party had found an abandoned druid camp. Arthur resented how gullible he’d been. How easily Emrys had tricked Arthur into trusting him. Emrys had probably had a hidden agenda all along. Or so Arthur had told himself during those long lonely nights where he remembered desperate kisses and eager hands. 

Sometimes, Arthur could still feel those strong hands on his body holding him upright as they rushed through the smoke in attempt to flee from a forest fire. Every now and then, his mind would drift and he’d smell that enticing mixture of rosemary and cardamom that had seemed to hang around Merl- Emrys. He hadn’t been able to figure out what the spicy scent was the man had reminded him of, until long after they’d parted ways. One morning Arthur had been walking past the castle’s kitchens, when a whiff of that spicy, almost citrusy scent hit his nostrils. For a moment he’d been right back in that tent with the man who’d saved his life, laughing about silly stories on a bed made up of soft furs. He’d ran into the kitchen and had demanded to know what the scent was. Only to forbid the chef to use it ever again three seconds later. Just like he had told her she could never use rosemary in anything that could be served to him, months earlier. 

The memories had faded over time. Most of them had. His anger hadn’t. 

Arthur had been furious. Furious at being betrayed. At being lied to. And maybe, just maybe, some of that anger had been directed at Arthur himself, because he’d allowed himself to dream of a future that didn’t include being Prince of Camelot. Whatever he had or hadn’t felt for the man, had been short-lived. Had been meaningless and based on lies. So he really shouldn’t be bothered by anything concerning the man. Not after all this time. 

The signature on the bottom of the invitation on Arthur’s desk shouldn’t have hit him like a punch in the gut. It really shouldn’t have. And there was no reason for Arthur to pick up the paper after Leon left, only to hold it to his nose and try to discern a hint of rosemary. 

Oh Gods, Leon. Arthur had shouted at the man. He’d been needlessly rude. Unforgivably so. That was something his father had done when he was still alive. Arthur had told himself he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d tried to right many of the wrongs his father had done over the years and had done so successfully. When his father had died, three years ago, Arthur had vowed to set things right. He’d lifted some of the strenuous taxes his father had imposed on his people. He’d changed the ways the people who lived in his kingdom were treated. The servants were treated fairly. The farmers in the smallest village at the edge of the kingdom now had their voices heard. The magic users who’d suffered under his father’s reign had been freed, their practices no longer condemned. And to prove to his people he’d meant it, Arthur had reached out to the druids. 

He’d promised himself he’d be a fair and just ruler. And this fair and just ruler had just shouted at one of his oldest friends about a piece of parchment that smelled like nothing but a musty old book. Surely Leon would know he hadn’t meant it. 

Right? 

Then it dawned on him. 

As one of Arthur’s most trusted advisors and oldest friends, Leon knew him better than anyone. This meant the conniving Knight knew exactly how his leave would affect the King. How he’d fret about having snapped at the man. How he’d go over the decision he’d made, over and over again until... 

Oh damn it. 

“George!” 

Within seconds, the King’s manservant entered the room with a hastily uttered “Yes, Sire.” 

The man bowed down so deeply his nose almost touched the floor. Great, Arthur thought. This meant he’d overheard the conversation with Leon and was now expecting Arthur to unleash his anger on him, too. Just great. 

“Get me Leon,” Arthur sighed. 

“Yes, Sire. Immediately, Sire.” Arthur rolled his eyes at his servant as he rushed out the door to do as he’d been told. 

Arthur didn’t have to wait long. Leon had probably been waiting nearby. Usually, Arthur appreciated the man’s advice. He really did. Just not now. Not on this. 

“Morgana went and signed the treaty last year,” Arthur said the moment Leon stepped back into his chambers. 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“She negotiated its conditions.” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“There’s no reason for them to be offended if she goes in my stead.” 

Silence. 

“And yet you still think I should be the one to attend.” 

It wasn’t a question. Leon still answered it with a nod. Damn it. 

*** 

Arthur travelled with a small group. He’d only taken a handful of Knights, his sister Morgana and the court physician Gaius, who’d all but begged to be allowed to travel with them so he could compare remedies with the druids. 

The journey to the druids’ settlement took almost a week. And they still arrived far too soon for Arthur’s liking. When they got there, Morgana almost jumped off of her horse to greet some of the people she’d met during her time here. Arthur gripped his stallion's reigns so tightly, the sound of the leather cracking almost drowned out his sister’s cheerful reunion. Almost. 

He watched as Morgana hugged an elderly woman with long black hair, who then turned towards Arthur and his Knights to come introduce herself. She didn’t have to. Arthur already knew her name. 

He’d heard it before. 

_“How long ‘till they get here, Finna?” Emrys had said after the woman had warned him about the Camelotian Knights’ approach._

_“Half an hour. Maybe less. Emrys, what do we do?”_

That’s when he’d found out. That’s when he’d learned the man he’d been with wasn’t Merlin after all. He’d been the leader of his father’s enemies. Emrys. 

Someone next to Arthur cleared their throat. Probably Leon. She was talking to him, Arthur noticed. The woman. Finna. She’d kneeled down next to his stallion and looked at him as if she was waiting for an answer to the question Arthur hadn’t heard her ask. Great. 

But Arthur got lucky. He didn’t have to make the situation awkward by asking her to repeat her question. The situation got awkward all on its own when he heard someone approach. He noticed how the druids around them stiffened and turned their attention from Arthur to the person striding towards them. Arthur had hoped to be able to avoid the man. Had hoped he’d be able to hide in whatever rooms they’d give him until the feast only to return there the moment the last course’s dishes had been cleared. Arthur sighed and tore his gaze from the woman kneeling before him. He looked up. And stopped breathing. 

That face, that beautiful face that had haunted his dreams the past five years. It hadn’t changed. Not much at least. The creases around the man’s impossibly blue eyes were deeper than they had been before. The hair at his temples showed a bit of silver. The last time Arthur had seen Merl- Emrys, the man had worn simple clothes, a comfortable tunic that had felt soft under Arthur’s searching hands. Not now. He was dressed like the royalty he was, in a gold embroidered coat that fit him just right. 

Arthur dismounted before Emrys reached him, as was the proper thing to do. He didn’t want to place himself above this man. His father had done enough of that to last him a lifetime. He landed on the damp earth, one hand still on his stallion’s saddle. The ground beneath his feet was soggy. It had been raining the day before. Arthur groaned and tightened his grip on the saddle. 

Emrys halted before Arthur and bowed down at the waist. Arthur returned the gesture, careful not to meet the other man’s eyes. 

“Emrys,” Arthur bit out, too busy ignoring the sting he felt at the use of this name to care about how he’d made it sound like an insult, “how nice to finally be introduced to you.” 

“Sire,” Emrys said, reminding Arthur of the time he’d asked the man not to use his title, but address him by his given name instead, “my people are honoured by your presence. You’ve given us this place to call our home, but we wish for you to know there is and forever will be a place for you here with us. A hearth to call a home away from home, should you be so inclined.” 

Emrys bowed again. 

For a moment, the silence hung thick in the air. Then Morgana’s joyful “Emrys!” pierced through the silence. She rushed to the man standing before Arthur and hugged him, like she’d done the other druids she’d befriended during her last stay. 

Traitor, Arthur thought. He wasn’t sure to which of them he’d directed it. When the people around them shifted their attention to Morgana and Emrys’ reunion, Arthur finally let go of his horse’s saddle and held his hand out behind his back. Without having to give the order, Leon dismounted and handed Arthur his cane. 

His right leg had never fully recovered. 

While looking at the back of Emrys’ head who was now in the midst of catching up with his sister, Arthur remembered the conversation he’d had five years ago. 

_“Don’t be such a_ _clotpole_ _and let me help you,” the druid had said, “You’re hurt. I can tell you’re hurting.”_

_“What did you just call me?”_

_“_ _Please_ _. Just let me... look at it. I can heal you. I just have to take a look at your leg first, see what we’re dealing with. But you’ll need to let me take care of you now, or you might not recover fully. What would you rather save, your pride or your leg?”_

Arthur had chosen to allow the sorcerer to use magic on him. Had wished the man had made the decision for him, but he’d refused to do so. Had refused to do anything without Arthur’s consent. So Arthur had, in fact, chosen to abandon his beliefs. Had chosen to trust the man before him. Had chosen his leg over his pride. In the end, neither had fully recovered. 

Arthur straightened his back and asked Finna to lead the way to the cottage he’d have at his disposal during his stay with the druids. He felt Leon move to his side when he followed her, relying heavily on his cane. Of course the Knight had noticed the slipperiness of the ground beneath their feet. Arthur straightened his back and made sure to move with his head held high. As if that would conceal his uneven gait. 

*** 

Arthur took his sweet time getting ready for the evening’s festivities. He had no intention of arriving early or staying late. Morgana had been an absolute terror when she’d found out they’d only arrive at the druids’ settlement the day of the feast, but Arthur had refused to spend any more time here than necessary. He’d seen her questioning looks and had ignored them with the ease that had come with growing up together. She’d learned a long time ago not to speak to him about anything related to the druids and hadn’t asked him about leaving early again. 

When Arthur left his cottage, he noticed someone had poured gravel in the muddy path leading from it to the great hall in the centre of the town. It hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. Looks like they had noticed his limp. Damn it. 

Arthur was the last to arrive in the great hall. He should have thought this through, he scolded himself. When his presence was announced and the heavy doors closed behind him, every single person in the room quieted and stood up so they could bow before the King as he walked by. 

With a heavy heart, Arthur noticed the dais at the far end of the room, where his sister was already waiting for him at the head table. He wished everyone would just continue their conversations. Wished they’d stop staring. Close their damned mouths rather than gape at him while the sound of his cane hitting the hard tile floor echoed around the hall. Arthur felt as if an hour had passed when he finally reached the dais. He nodded at the people waiting for him without meeting their eyes and made his way to the chair next to his host’s. 

Beside him, Emrys cleared his throat, and started to give a speech. Then Morgana gave one in Arthur’s name, which reminded Arthur he probably had to thank Leon for suggesting she gave it in the first place. Arthur made sure to smile whenever he was supposed to and raise his glass at the right time. Managed to keep from making a fool of himself whenever he got another whiff of Emrys’ enticing rosemary and cardamom scent. At some point, a ceremonial blade was gifted to him. He picked it up from the cushion it had been placed on and held it up high, for everyone to see. People cheered. He smiled some more. Applauded when the others did. And then, finally, it was all over. 

People’s attention shifted from the head table to the plates in front of them. 

“Are you alright?” came from Arthur’s right. Emrys. Of course it was. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

When the man next to him sighed, Arthur snapped his head in his direction to tell him exactly how he felt about that misplaced concern of his. 

Mistake. 

Big mistake. 

Emrys had been looking at Arthur before he’d turned to face him. There was no way of avoiding the man’s stare now. None. A jolt of electricity ran through Arthur’s body the moment he realised just how close he was to that face. That gorgeous face, that had somehow become even more pleasing to the eye as the years had passed. Emrys’ face had been almost ethereal before, all cheekbones and long lashes. Not anymore. The short beard he’d grown suited him, Arthur thought. Made him look like these people’s ruthless leader the bards used to sing of back then. No wonder he hadn’t known who he was. The man Arthur had met all those years ago had looked nothing like the all-powerful sorcerer the stories had been about. That, of course, hadn’t meant he hadn’t wielded a power over Arthur he still didn’t understand. Didn’t want to. Arthur had been puddle in the man’s hands the moment he’s laid eyes on him. Those eyes. Arthur’s gaze drifted upwards until their eyes locked. Arthur’s first instinct was to get up. Leave. Take cover. Years of lectures given to him by his private tutors on how a King should and shouldn’t behave were the only thing keeping him in his seat. 

“You’re... staring, Sire,” Emrys whispered in a breathy voice, the movement of his mouth enough to tear Arthur’s gaze from his eyes down to those full lips. 

Gods. 

Arthur had dreamt of how they’d felt on his skin. Every night. For months after leaving the camp. 

“Am I?” 

Merlin nodded and licked his lips, forcing Arthur to suppress a moan. 

“Arth-” 

Now that was enough to snap Arthur out of the spell he’d been under. 

“No,” he growled. 

Emrys stiffened and leaned back. “No?” 

“You don’t get to call me that anymore. Emrys. If that even is your real name. ‘Cause who knows right. Who knows what’s real and what isn’t anymore.” 

Arthur barked out a cruel laugh. “If you’ve got any more lies to tell me, now’s as good a time as any.” 

Emrys closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. Talk about fighting dirty, Arthur thought. 

“You know my real name.” 

“Oh shut up, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur snarled. 

And he did. They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Arthur got up and went to his cottage as soon as he could. 

*** 

“What on earth are you thinking,” Morgana hissed as she followed Arthur out of the great hall. 

“Please stop.” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in the hopes it would make his head ache go away. 

“Oh I haven’t even begun. I can’t believe this. I really don’t. We get here inexcusably close to start of the celebrations in _your_ honour. You show up half an hour late and are the first to leave. And who knows what you said to poor Emrys, I’ve never seen him this upset.” 

“Poor Emrys!” Arthur spat. “Poor Emrys?! Oh he seems to be doing quite well for himself, don’t you think? Nice piece of land, bunch of happy druids. I don’t see anything worth pitying.” 

“Oh I do,” Morgana glared at him, making it perfectly clear who she thought was worth pitying. This only infuriated him more. 

“I don’t need your pity.” 

“Then tell me what you need.” 

“I need you to get the hell out of here and give me some peace and quiet!” 

“You’re the King now. You’ll get to enjoy your peace and quiet when you’re dead. Until then, I suggest you suck it up, stop acting like someone broke your favourite toy and get back in there.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I don’t?” Morgana laughed. It sounded cruel. “Oh please, Arthur. You’ve never been good at hiding anything from me. Don’t insult me. Five years ago, your Knights show up at the citadel, claiming they’ve lost you to a forest fire, only to find you safe and sound, in a druid encampment. You sulk in your room for months after you get home. Months! And guess what happens the moment you become King?! You send me to negotiate a peace treaty with those druids you claimed had held you captive.” 

Morgana scowled at him before continuing, “And now, for some reason you’re acting like a pig, Arthur. Insulting these wonderful people for reasons only the Gods know of. Not to mention your abhorrent behaviour towards Emrys. I don't know what happened between you and Emrys when you were with the druids before. And I honestly don’t care. Your behaviour is insulting. And honestly, I don’t think our _father_ could have done a better job of putting the peace treaty at risk. These people deserve better than this. And you’re going to head back in there and show them the respect they deserve, whether you like it or not.” 

After this verbal lashing, Morgana turned around without sparing him another glance and headed back inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Arthur’s mind was blank. Everything she’d said had been right, of course, even though he’d never tell her that, if he could avoid it. Suddenly exhausted, Arthur walked over to a wooden bench near the door and sank down on it. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. 

The door opened again, Arthur realised when the sounds of people singing and dancing drifted out into the night. 

“I’ve heard you the first time, Morgana,” Arthur growled, “No need to come yell at me again. I’ll be... I’ll go back in and apologise. I just need... I need a minute.” 

Arthur sighed. The voice that answered him wasn’t, Morgana’s. 

“You don’t have to apologise.” 

Emrys. Brilliant. 

Arthur opened his eyes. Might as well apologise now and be done with it. 

“I do.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I apologise for the way I behaved.” 

“It _was_ rather unkingly of you,” Emrys said with a smirk that reminded Arthur so much of the smiles they’d shared that one morning, when Emrys had still been Merlin. 

“Then again,” Emrys continued, “I probably shouldn’t have asked you to come here. If you wanted to be involved in any of this, you wouldn’t have sent your sister to negotiate the treaty’s terms.” 

“Why did you?” 

“Because you’re not the only one who should apologise.” 

“Enlighten me.” 

Emrys rolled his eyes. “Of course, Sire.” Arthur couldn’t suppress a smile when, once again, he was reminded of the easy banter they’d once shared. 

“I apologise for the way you found out who I am. I could have told you a hundred times during the time we spent together and I chose not to. I regret not telling you. I regret-” Emrys’ voice cracked. “I remember the way you looked at me. I never meant to hurt you.” 

Emrys wasn’t the only one who remembered the moment the blood in Arthur’s veins had turned to ice. 

_“Arthur, I -” Emrys had said, his voice trembling with emotion, before Arthur had placed a finger on his lips to silence him._

_“Please don’t,” Arthur had said. “We don’t have time for this, Emrys.”_

_Arthur remembered the way his throat had burned when he’d called him Emrys. “And even if we did, I don’t think there’s much to be said. I want to help you help your people, so I need you to give me a horse. Nod if you understand.”_

_Emrys had nodded. Had given him a horse and had watched as Arthur rode off to find the soldiers who were about to attack the druid camp, in an attempt to buy Emrys and his people the time they needed to escape. Neither of them had spoken another word. Neither of them had said goodbye._

“You did,” Arthur said, “Hurt me, I mean.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Arthur knew the man meant it. Could hear it in his voice. See it in his eyes. 

“Me, too.” 

“Does it still hurt?” 

Every single day, Arthur wanted to say, when he realised the other man was looking at his knee. Oh. He’d meant his leg. Arthur nodded. 

“I’m s-” 

“Don’t say you’re sorry again. It’s not your fault, Merlin.” The other man’s eyes widened at Arthur’s use of his name. “You tried to fix my leg. I know you did. If it weren’t for what you did back then I wouldn’t have made it out of those woods, let alone walk again. Besides,” Arthur tried to lighten the mood with a tentative smile, “I’ve been told even a cripple King is better than our last one.” 

Arthur couldn’t help himself when he noticed the wretched look in Merlin’s eyes. He placed a hand on the man’s jaw. He swallowed when he felt the man’s stubble scrape his palm. 

“You are a hundred times the man your father was, Arthur.” The sound his name rolling from those lips, sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. 

“Surely, you must know this,” Merlin continued, “You’ve righted so many wrongs since you became King. Changed things for the better.” 

“I’ve tried.” 

"You have."

Merlin's praise meant a lot to Arthur. Much more than he cared to think about.

“Speaking of trying. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do much to heal your wounds, especially since this much time has passed, but would you mind if I...” Merlin's voice drifted off. He raised his hand and held it over Arthur’s knee. 

Arthur swallowed as he remembered another time Merlin had held his hand over Arthur’s thigh. He’d asked for permission to use magic on him then, too. Arthur had given it to him. 

And he was going to do so again. Of course he was. 

“Do it,” Arthur heard himself say. 

That was all the encouragement Merlin needed. Arthur bit his lip in anticipation as he waited for Merlin’s eyes to turn to the liquid gold he’d dreamed of night after night for such a long time. When they did, a warmth spread through Arthur’s body that may or may not have been caused by the healing magic Merlin unleashed. Arthur shivered. 

Far too soon, Merlin’s eyes turned blue again. Arthur rubbed his leg and was about to open his mouth when someone cleared their throat behind Merlin. 

“Emrys?” 

Merlin stilled and looked at Arthur before asking the druid what they needed. It was clear they both remembered the last time someone had interrupted them by calling out for Emrys. 

“It’s time for your dance with the Lady Morgana, sir. To celebrate the treaty’s one-year anniversary.” 

“I’ll be back soon,” Merlin said, clearly unsure of whether or not Arthur would be there when he did. 

After seeing the door close behind Merlin, it took about three seconds for Arthur to realise he had no business sitting out there. Morgana had been right. He had to make things right. An apology in the dark wasn't going to be enough. He got up and rushed after Merlin. 

He reached him just as Merlin stretched his hand out for Morgana to take. 

Arthur cleared his throat and took it before she could. The broad smiles on both their faces told him he’d done the right thing. People made room for them as they walked off of the dais towards the dance floor. 

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped, his eyes wide with surprise, “You’re walking without your cane!” 

Arthur frowned, and looked towards the head table, where Morgana was still grinning. Against it, he saw the forgotten cane. 

“I... I am.” 

Merlin’s smile was so bright it lit up the room. 

All around them, Arthur could hear sounds of relief as people noticed that Camelot’s King and the druid Emrys had managed to clear the air between them. They both bowed and Merlin held out his hand for Arthur to take. Arthur didn’t pause and immediately placed his hand in Merlin’s. When Merlin squeezed it softly, Arthur sighed and put his other hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Arthur’s breath hitched when he felt a strong hand slide onto his lower back and pull him close.

Merlin held Arthur close during their first dance, then the second. And a third. Arthur felt his leg sting as they moved across the dance floor. 

It would take a while for these wounds to heal fully, he thought, as he felt Merlin’s arms wrap him just a bit tighter. And Arthur was more than ready to give them all the time they needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This week has been such a rollercoaster. I decided I was participating in the event two days before it started and I have to say I did NOT expect to write anything but drabbles... But here we are.  
> It's been great to share this experience with everyone here and your reactions and kudos have been wonderful!
> 
> Thank you for being here and for reading my work. It means so much.
> 
> As always: English isn't my first language and I don't have a beta. So if there's anything that needs fixing, feel free to let me know!


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